Rust Bucket (2 page)

      I answered, "I'm looking to purchase a projectile weapon."

      "Don't get much call for them. What caliber do you want?" he asked.

      "I'm not sure. Let me check." I pulled out my list to see if the caliber was listed.

      The salesman's eyes seemed to know just because of that. "Never mind, son. I know what caliber you want. Thought I'd never see another one of those lists. How is the Sarge these days?" he asked.

      "In good health. You know him?" I asked.

      "Yes, I do," he said, pulling a box from under a counter. He looked at the shoulder pack I had, walked over to another aisle, pulled a different shoulder pack off a shelf, and brought it back with him. "You'll need this size and style to accommodate this weapon. I'll trade you even for the packs as a favor to the Sarge, not that it'll ever make us even."

      I sensed then that there was a story behind that man's reverence for the Sarge. However, I decided it wasn't my business to pry into the man's personal affairs.

      "Nope! There ain't no way I can ever repay the Sarge for saving my son's life. You'll get the gun at wholesale price, too. Go ahead and take your gear out of that pack. Put it in this one. Did you get everything on the list?" he asked.

      I replied, "Not quite. I couldn't find the . . ."

      He said, "Marker and note pad. I don't think hardly anyone else besides us still carries those. They'll be wholesale, too. Now I'll show you how to use this antique. It packs a wallop for such an old weapon, but someday you'll be thanking Sarge for recommending you buy it."

      We went into a back room where the old man showed me how to use the weapon and then to take it apart, clean, and reassemble it. He wouldn't let me pay or leave with it until I showed him I could do as he had. Then he went about making sure I had everything stored away inside the pack, putting the pistol in its holster that was concealed by the pack unlike the other pack where it was visible.

      "Yep," he said as he rang up the purchases and finished with everything including my permit for a concealed weapon, "that kind of pack is the kind that will do you a lot of good. Don't ever forget to keep it in good condition. I was on an expedition once. We used those to float a wounded man across a river. Always keep your canteen in the front half. That way you can use the straw to drink while you're walking and keep your hands free."

      Before I left the store, he had exchanged three more items for what I bought with different models which he thought to be superior. Even though one item was used, he looked and sounded so sincere that I let him do it without argument. I guess it was also because one of the items he exchanged equally was a better item than I purchased. He wasn't trying to cheat me, I could clearly tell. As I left, he wished me good luck.

      I spent more time inside the store than I planned on, but it was still before supper. I saw no reason not to go on ahead down to the Pennyweight Shipping Company to see what they were like. I only got about two more blocks when I entered into an area that had been off-limits while I was a cadet. Now I was free to enter. At my own risk, of course. I didn't feel like walking around the area that was poorly policed and where almost anything was legal or likely to happen. I wasn't thinking about my haircut marking me as a cadet. On the other hand, I hadn't received my cadet ring yet. It would be forwarded to me, so I guess I looked more like a first-year washout than anything else. However, none of those things occurred to me as I entered the area.

      I barely went a block when I found myself being faced by two tough-looking thugs. They seemed determined to shake me down and force me to transfer credits, not to mention stealing whatever I carried of value. I guess it would have been different had I been a washout as they thought, but I wasn't. I was a third-year cadet. That meant I was conditioned and trained already in several forms of combat. Nor did they teach us to fight fair at the Academy. We used padded robots so that we could throw real punches and kicks at any and every vital area we could reach. Also, I was wearing my steel-cap insert non-skids. It didn't even occur to me to pull the ancient .50 caliber pistol I was then carrying.

      It was hardly a fair fight as I indicated. One of them put his body in the way. The second man tried to come from behind while the first one did his best to keep me busy. As soon as I felt the second man's hand on my shoulder, I ducked down and swept my arm back to hit him in the groin. He backed off as quickly as he could while doubled-up. I jumped up from my position, leaving my duffel bag on the ground, and planted a steelcapped kick into the ribs of the first man, knocking him over backwards onto his ass. His hand clutched at his ribs. I was sure I broke at least one. I hadn't held anything back as I made that kick. It was meant to maim, if not kill. I hadn't held anything back on the first man, either. He was still clutching himself while tears of pain fell down his face. I picked up my stuff and resumed walking away. As I left them, I could hear the two of them saying something about not seeing a ring on me while trying to blame the other for making a bad choice of victims. I know that three years ago, it wouldn't have taken but one of them to make me shit in my pants and hand over everything.

      As I continued walking through the area, the way in front cleared considerably as news of the skirmish travelled faster than light speed. No one was sure what year I was anymore, but they didn't want to tangle with me. Evidently, the word about the reduction in force hadn't reached the zone yet. However, they were hardly expected to be interested in such matters. By the time I reached the opposite edge of the off-limits area, I could make out the space port. As well, I was only two more blocks from the Pennyweight Shipping Company. I considered stopping for something to eat since it would be supper time soon, but decided that I didn't want to have to wait until morning to check them out. The fact that they weren't listed in the directory had grabbed my curiosity and squeezed it until I had to find out about them to relieve the pressure.

***

I expected to find a rundown, seedy-looking building because of the lack of a listing, but the building wasn't much different from any other building on the block. I guess that made me more curious since they seemed like the other shipping companies from the outside. I entered the plain brick building and walked up to the office counter.

      "You the guy with the package to ship?" asked a man without looking up at me.

      I replied, "No, sir. I came here to learn about your company and possibly put in an application for a job."

      He looked up at me, noticing the shoulder pack and my haircut almost immediately. "Let me see your transcripts, son."

      I reached into my pocket, pulled out the paper copy of them, and handed them over along with the recommendation from the Sarge. I didn't mean to hand that over yet, but forgot to pull it out, along with my list.

      He looked through the sheets of paper and handed me back the list without asking about it. He looked at the recommendation and then looked back at me. "Okay, Dave Oden, come on around the counter and take a seat there," he said pointing at a bench.

      I did as he instructed and then waited almost an hour before he came back to get me.

      He said, "This way. We'll interview you now. Seems like we might have a position for you, if you're interested."

      I almost started to explain that I really wanted some information about the company first. However, I decided that I should find out what the position was before I bothered to waste anymore of their time or mine since I did need a job. He showed me to an office with the Pennyweight logo displayed outside it. I noticed the date of establishment and saw that it was an old company. It wasn't likely named for the owner unless she was over a couple of hundred years in age, which was highly unlikely, despite an average life span of a hundred and fifty for people to look forward to. After all, their logo showed a Clipper ship that was commonplace for the time they were established. It only made me wonder more about why they weren't listed in the directory. I walked into the room, expecting to see an old, if not ancient, woman. Instead, there was a rather young woman, probably not more than my own age of twenty-five. Before I had a chance to speak, she started talking.

      "We've got an opening on our gun ship. You qualify. You want the job?" she asked.

      "Not that I'm particular, but what is the opening?" I asked.

      She said, "We're not like the Navy. Our gunners also perform other duties. You might be taking care of recycling, farming, navigation, piloting, or anything else that needs to be done."

      Something inside me said take it, so I said, "Yes ma'am. I'll take it." I wondered why I didn't bother asking about the company's background or how come they weren't listed in the directory. All I knew was this was a civilian gun ship that regularly escorted company ships into places where there was no law and usually no navy to protect them. If anything, the Sarge was right about seeing more action than most of the navy personnel would see. I thought that I would actually wind up on a freighter. In a way, I was right as well. If the cargo was small and valuable enough, then the gun ship would double as a freighter and go out alone.

      "Jim, get him a badge and a belt with a stinger." Then she turned to me and said, "You'll have a locker inside this building to stow away your gear. Take only what you absolutely have to have. At least, you're prepared for what the job entails. Sarge prepared you properly. Welcome aboard. I'm Penelope. Don't ever call me Penny unless something's wrong. I'm assigning you to the
Thurman.
It don't look like much, but it don't need to. You have any trouble finding us?"

      I answered, "No ma'am. Just walked out the Academy entrance, turned left and kept walking until I got here. Only stopped to pick up a few items."

"You walked?" she exclaimed.

I answered, "Yes ma'am."

      She said, "You're either foolish or over-confident. I don't like either of those. We worry a lot. Business is cutthroat and there's no room for either. I'm surprised that you didn't get mugged in the off-limits area. It's off-limits to our people as well, unless we have a delivery inside there."

      "Yes ma'am. I understand." I decided not to tell her that I had injured two men making my way through the off-limits area. I didn't want to be labeled as a bragger. It was bad enough what she thought of me so far.

      Jim came into the office and handed me a badge and gunbelt with a stinger already holstered in it. The stinger was a typical commercially-sold, small, handheld, charged-particle weapon which could recharge itself. I went ahead and put them on, using Jim as my model on how to wear them properly. Then I went with him out of the office and picked up my gear. He showed me to the locker room where I left most of the gear from my duffel bag, taking only a change of clothes with me. He pointed out what I thought was a dark copper-colored ship that was my assignment.

      I walked on by myself over to the ship. The closer I got to it, the more I could tell that it wasn't copper colored. It was rust I was seeing!

      I couldn't believe that I'd signed onto a company with a ship like that. I stared for a moment at my second major disappointment for that day. It was a very old patrol ship bought from the Navy as surplus. I doubted that it could hold its own in an even fight with another ship almost as old as it. I was wrong about that. From the looks of things, once I got inside it, it looked like it couldn't beat a ship older than it. I was almost sure that I was going to be on runs where there wasn't any real danger to be faced. After all, nobody in their right mind would send that rust bucket out to face some of the current state of the art ships out there in the space lanes. They would dance circles around it. Then they'd tear it apart with their pea shooters just for kicks.

      I checked in with the officer on watch and got my assignment before I went to eat. Once inside, I was shown my gun station first and then my assignment. It was about what I figured it would be for the most junior man aboard. I was in charge of the recycling. That was a pleasant description for what was otherwise called taking care of the garbage. Lastly, I was shown where to bunk down. Now I knew why the Sarge listed a web hammock. I would need it for more than just camping.

      Anyway, I didn't have to leave the ship to get a meal. Once I was hired, I was entitled to eat in the onboard dining facility. I expected the food to be as bad as the shape of the ship. Incredibly, the food was great. It was actually better than what the Academy gave us as cadets. I also had duties to perform starting right after supper and began recycling the garbage. There were two ways of handling it. One for planet surface use and one for in space. I knew both because of my Academy training.

We lifted off three days later. Regardless of what I thought of the
Thurman,
or 'Rust Bucket' as it was called by everyone, its engines had kick. We zipped up into orbit, with more vitality than I thought the Rust Bucket had in her, and checked ourselves out. Considering the gravity of the planet we were on, I realized that the interplanetary engines must be a heck of a lot better than I realized. They were. In fact, they were even better than I suspected from our lift off.

      I wasn't worried about the FTL engines. FTL, of course, meant faster than light. That was a necessity for flight between star systems. However, the FTL engines couldn't be used safely for lift-off or interplanetary flight where there were too many objects to run into, not to mention the heavy traffic on the trade routes. During the time we would be between star systems, we and the freighters would be safe since no one could fight yet at those speeds. No one could even find anyone else moving at those speeds. If someone did happen to catch a glimpse, it was just that, only a glimpse. Whoever you saw would be too far away before you could react, even with computer assistance. It didn't do any good to shoot at anyone then since their ship's speed was much greater than anything fired at them.